Her Golden Torch Held High
by curious marionette
Summary: Late 1800s. Young Croatia is an immigrant to the United States. He runs into someone unexpected... AmericaxOC


_Inspired by my family heritage, and because I thought it would be fun to make my own country-kun. :3_

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Her Golden Torch Held High

-_Late 1800s_-

A raucous blend of different languages had swallowed me up. The people were pressing up against me. I could pick out the voices of a few from my own country, saying,

"There she is! There she is!"

"Look! Look!"

"We've _made it_!"

I lifted my head slowly, feeling dizzy. The blood was pounding in my skull. I had spent the last few hours draped over the railing, staring pitifully into the churning water below, pleading to the waves for mercy in between each horrible, rolling motion my stomach made. A man knocked into me as I straightened up, practically forcing me overboard. Everyone was making their way to the front of the boat… _Why_? With a hand held over my mouth as if to coax my queasiness away, I pushed through the crowd.

I saw her before I got to the bow, and stopped in my tracks. A statue floating above the sea… A strong, beautiful woman. Her hand was raised high over us, like the sheltering hand of God, clutching a flaming torch. She was draped in flowing cloth, like an angel. Her eagle eyes looked out on us, waiting patiently as we approached.

"She's here to welcome us," I heard a woman tell her daughter. The little girl gazed up at the statue in awe. I understood. I, too, couldn't seem to look away.

It seemed as if only seconds had passed when the scrambling began again. I fought through the dense mob of bodies much larger than my own, past everyone making their way below deck. I was searching for my belongings. In all the excitement, I had left them alone someplace alongside the railing…

I breathed a sigh of relief when I found my basket was still its place, tucked safely behind a heavy coil of rope. Despite the weakness I was feeling in my legs, I lifted the basket with no trouble; it was the bare minimum I had been able to take with me. It held only a few patched articles of clothing and an old, beat-up copy of the Holy Bible. These were all I had, besides my name. I thought fondly of the fragile wildflower that was tucked inside the holy book, pressed between the pages… My little sister had put it in to remind me of her.

"They're letting us off!"

I looked around to find the masses moving again. I felt strangled in the middle of it, pushed on from all sides as we shuffled desperately towards solid ground. If felt good to smell land again, instead of salt that burned my nose and made me sick. My feet could not balance at first. I had to sit down, careful to find a place where I would not be trampled. It wasn't long before I had to get up again. I was ushered with the others into a long, tall building. A barnyard. It was noisy and the smell of a long journey hung in the air. We were all herded along like sheep, marked with chalk, sent this way or that. Some people were going to be sent back. I could hear families crying at their separation. Ellis Island, this place was called.

"Name?" I stood before this mustached American man and his thick registry. He spoke in English but I did not need to understand him; I knew what it was he wanted.

"Ćurk- Ćurković… Andelko Ćurković," I stammered.

"Andy…Church..." The man muttered as he scribbled into his records and I stared on with a flushed face. "Alright, Andy, step to the side." He waited while I blinked back at him, and then gestured with extreme irritation for me to move out of the way. I practically jumped to my escape. Learning this new language was not going to be easy.

My papers were in order. After five long hours of processing, I was christened "Andy Church," a new citizen of America, where "the streets were paved with gold." I was more than ready for my first steps onto the mainland, but it wasn't going to be that _easy_. On my way outside I collided face-first with a towering man, falling backwards and landing hard on my behind. The force kicked the hat right off of my head.

"I'm sorry! I didn't see you there…" A hand was extended towards me from above. I took it hesitantly and was hauled to my feet. "You _are_ a small fellow! You must be awfully young... Did you come all this way on your own?" the man asked. I just shook my head, embarrassed that I could not understand him. "_I'm sorry_." To my surprise, he had slipped into Croatian with a flawless accent. "_I didn't notice you there. Are you alone?_"

I met the man's eyes. Something felt strange inside me then… an energy…a sort of melting feeling. His eyes were perfect blue… like a clear sky, or the foam of the ocean. His hair was shiny and soft, a rich golden color… like sun-baked wheat. I found myself staring up at him. I couldn't look away. Suddenly I realized I had not answered him, "_Yes. I am alone_." I dropped my gaze to the dust on my shoes and stooped to pick my cap up off the ground. When I had fixed it to my head again, I chanced another peek at the man. His gaze was warm. I felt the intimidation fade away. He was handsome, too…

"_Well I am honored that you would come so far. You must be very brave_." He ran a hand through his hair, smiling in a bright way that made me want to smile, too. "_I want to help you as much as I can._"

"_Can… can you find me a job?_" I blurted out, unable to contain myself. I didn't even know who this man was, but I thought he could do it. I _knew_ somehow that he could... "_My family needs money_," I told him. "_I need to send some home as soon as possible_-"

"_I can't help you in that way…_" His eyes darkened as he denied me; there was a storm behind them now… gray and slow. It looked as if my question had torn his heart in two… I felt horribly guilty for asking such a thing. He put his hand on my shoulder. "_Andy, you will succeed_." How did he know my- _that_ name? "_I can tell that you will work hard, and honestly, and that is what it takes. Anything is possible for you_." I felt his touch lift away. I wanted to pull his hand back. I didn't know why, but I wanted to embrace him. "_I'll be watching over you. You don't need to feel alone._" With those words he turned his back on me, started to leave.

"_Wait!_" I called, chasing after him and grabbing onto his sleeve. He stopped and smiled patiently down at me. His dazzling smile... "_Who- who are you?_" I asked, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.

"_I am the Mother of Exiles. I am the Land of the Free_." His eyes were clear again, glowing with a captivating brilliance. I felt as if I could fall into them forever. It wasn't frightening, but… comforting. Somehow, I understood. I let go of him, my hand dropped to my side. I had known who he was before he had asked. I had known on the ship, before I had set sail. I had known the moment I had decided to leave the country of my birth. "_I am America_," he said.

I watched him walk away until he vanished into the crowd, and clutching my basket of few belongings, I knew that there was hope.


End file.
